


028 "Mama's boy"

by wheel_pen



Series: Iron Man AU [28]
Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fish out of Water, My Pepper is different, Post-Iron Man, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:26:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In talking with Pepper about the project that created her, Tony discovers—to his delight—that her physical form was designed to be appealing to him specifically. And also discovers—to his horror—that she was in part modeled after his mother. “Your early appreciation of the body was indeed overwhelming.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	028 "Mama's boy"

**Author's Note:**

> 1) My Pepper is very different from canon Pepper. Her personality/origin is very different; to separate her from canon Pepper I've given her a new last name and a different hair color.
> 
> 2) The bad words are censored. That's just how I do things.
> 
> 3) Stories are numbered in the order I wrote them, which isn't necessarily the order in which they occur. At some point I'll post a timeline.
> 
> I wrote this series after the first Iron Man movie came out. It's very AU but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play with these characters.

            Pepper and I were lying in bed one night—which happened often lately, in fact _every_ night, almost, except maybe when I was out on a mission—and I couldn’t sleep. Of course Pepper didn’t sleep at all—it had taken a little time for me to get used to the idea of her sending emails and writing memos while in bed, just seemed a little rude you know, but I was beginning to see the advantage in not worrying about waking someone else up all the time. For example, if I couldn’t sleep and had a question that only Pepper could answer.

            “So, your dental records matched those of, er, the _other_ Pepper Smith,” I said randomly. We hadn’t talked about this particular subject in several weeks.

            Pepper looked back over her shoulder at me, saw that I was wide awake, and rolled over to face me. “That’s correct. We had learned that dental records are a popular means of identification among humans.”

            “Are your fingerprints the same as hers?”

            “Yes,” Pepper confirmed. “Also the synthetic body was infused with her DNA.”

            “So if anyone wanted to do a DNA test,” I surmised, “assuming they had an original sample to compare with, you would match there, too?”

            “That’s right.” She waited patiently for me to make my point, if I had one.

            “Then why don’t you _look_ more like the, er, other one?” I questioned. Obadiah’s files on Pepper were still hidden away in one of his little niches, presumably; we seemed to discover new squirrel holes of his every month. But it hadn’t been terribly difficult to locate a high school photo of the first Pepper Smith, and while there weren’t any _huge_ differences—she wasn’t black, for example, or in possession of a distinctive Roman nose—you wouldn’t really believe she somehow grew into _my_ Pepper.

            “The face for the synthetic body had already been carefully designed some time in advance,” Pepper explained matter-of-factly. “Fortunately the required dental structure from the human Pepper Smith didn’t necessitate any drastic changes in the overall cranial features, and the two faces were deemed ‘close enough.’”

            “’Close enough’?” I repeated. “That gives one confidence in the project integrity.”

            She frowned at me, as she always did when I dared criticize the glorious project that had created her (or at least the parts I could see). “The dental records, fingerprints, and DNA would all show a perfect match,” she reminded me. “If there were anomalies in the facial features, it was assumed they would not impede identification.”

            “It’s just kind of weird, though,” I persisted (all the while realizing that my definition of ‘weird’ had changed a lot over the years). “Why wouldn’t you guys just snatch the body and model _everything_ on… it? Her?”

            “It took a long time to design and create this construct,” she told me, a bit slowly as I obviously didn’t get it. “If _you_ were making some kind of… camouflaged structure that looked like a boulder, which would you do—take a few pictures of the boulders years in advance and work with that, or wait for someone to send you the _exact_ boulder they wanted copied, then turn the product out in a week?”

            “Interesting analogy,” I allowed. “I see your point about the time constraints. But what parameters were used when the, er, construct was designed, then?”

            “Well, they tried to make it appealing to _you_ , of course.”

            I grinned a bit stupidly, as I always did when she said something like that. “Oh and they _did_ , Pepper,” I purred, looking over the results with pleasure. “But before I get too distracted by that thought—how did they know what kind of design to use? I mean, _I_ wouldn’t even be able to describe ‘my type,’ except for ‘hot’ of course, and before _you_ , of course…”

            “The construct was designed while you were still in college, before you had _quite_ had time to reveal your utter lack of discernment in sexual partners,” Pepper pointed out, and I frowned as I tried to figure out if she had just insulted me. “The body was based on a composite of female celebrities who were considered attractive at the time. The goal, after all, was not necessarily to create a sexual partner for you, merely an ‘attractive’ figure.”

            “Guess I just got lucky, huh?” I grinned.

            “Your early appreciation of the body was indeed overwhelming,” she agreed dryly.

            “What about the face?” I asked, thoroughly intrigued at this point. “Is there a little bit of Cindy Crawford in there? Heidi Klum? That redhead in my advanced aeronautics class?”

            “Actually the face was based on your mother’s.”

            EEK! “ _What?!_ ” All thoughts of enjoying my specially-designed construct fled. “You do _not_ look like my mom!”

            “Of course not _exactly_ ,” she informed me, as though this were no big deal. “It’s a subtle resemblance—the shape of the nose, the tilt of the eyes, the width of the mouth—“

            “Ew, stop it,” I insisted, shuddering.

            She frowned again. Did it look like my mom’s frown? I couldn’t be sure. “It’s widely reported that humans are often drawn to those who look familiar to them, from a broad ethnic type down to specific individuals. Human females are said to often marry men who resemble their fathers in some way.” I continued to make elaborate expressions of disgust. “It was thought the similarity would be comforting to you,” she finished with concern.

            “It’s just—ugh—kind of ooky,” I explained as best I could. “I’m uncomfortable now.”

            She narrowed her eyes at me. “Perhaps I should go back to my room then.” She started to scoot out of bed.

            I caught her arm. “No, no, it’s… erm, it’s okay, really,” I assured her without conviction. “Um… I’ll get over it. I’ll try not to think about it ever again.”

            “Okay.” She settled back down in bed. “Shall I go back to work now, or did you want to—“

            “Not right now, thanks,” I declined quickly. First time for everything, I guess. But I thought being told that your girlfriend had been designed to look like your mother was pretty good grounds for putting off sex, for a couple hours anyway.

            Pepper went back to her phone and I tried to fall asleep. After all this time I couldn’t blame the blue glow of the arc reactor for keeping me awake. Now I could only blame the thoughts swirling through my brain.

            “You have freckles.”

            “Yes, Tony.”

            “My mom had freckles.”

            “Yes, Tony.”

            “I had never, in all the time I’ve known you, made that connection before.”

            “That’s why it’s called _subtle_ , Tony.”

            “It’s only the face, right? You didn’t base any other, um, _parts_ on—“

            “Tony. Go to sleep.”

            “Oh my G-d. Is your voice like my mom’s?”

            “Anthony Edward Stark—“

            “Arghhhh! Stop it, Pepper!”

            “My vocal cords have no relation to your mother’s, Tony. Now please, go to sleep.”

* * *


End file.
